


The Research Team

by morelikeassassin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: ...mostly fluff, F/F, I don't expect any warnings except some light gore in a few chapters, I'll keep it as light as possible, all fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morelikeassassin/pseuds/morelikeassassin
Summary: Every department at the Magnus Institute has an important role in the organization's grand purpose. The archival staff curates statements and records of eldritch happenings across history. Artefact storage collects and keeps safe certain items touched by the nightmarish entities that inhabit our world. The research team gets sent down to the store to grab more red string for the conspiracy wall, and maybe a box of donuts while they're out.





	The Research Team

“This where you’ll be set up most of the time,” Charlie explained to the new hire. The cubicled desks were the first and last stop on the tour; better to give newbies an idea of how to get to and from home base, Charlie reasoned. This block had two desks facing away from each other, and another two out of sight beyond a flimsy room divider. One was empty and clean, equipped only with a piece of paper folded over the outer divider that read “Roux Bailey.” Roux gave it a once-over and made a mental note to bring her plants in as soon as possible. The desk across from hers was cluttered with books, sticky notes, and stacks of paper piled high around an absolutely ancient desktop computer. Several of the stacks had discarded mugs on top of them, which looked like they’d been there long enough to be part of the filing system somehow. The outward-facing wall of the cubicle had a placard with the name “Charlie Daniels” printed in a professional-looking font, and the words “they/them” scribbled directly onto the plastic namecard holder in sharpie. Roux was silently relieved that she wouldn’t have to ask.

“Do I get a computer, or…?” she said, gesturing broadly at her empty desk.

“Yeeeeeah, they’re working on that,” said Charlie, selecting some papers from a few different stacks and twisting them loosely into a cone. “Still cleaning it out from the last person who had it. The research department isn’t where most of the money goes, so they don’t give them out individually much. We’ve only got so many to go around. It’s based on seniority, which is basically just who survives the longest.”

Roux laughed. “Ha, survives! That’s, uh-” She quickly realized that Charlie was completely serious. “Oh, God, really?”

“Guess no one told you what happened to my last cubicle-mate,” said Charlie. Roux stared at them for a solid ten seconds. Charlie smiled broadly. “Let’s take the rest of the tour!”

“Seriously, that’s a joke, right?” Roux started to ask.

“Hey, there’s Ken! Hi, Ken!” Charlie said quickly, gesturing at a burly man carrying a large bag in the direction opposite them. Ken shifted his baggage to one side so he could shake Roux’s hand.

“Roux, right?” he asked, smiling. “Nice to have a new face around the research pod. Let me know if you need anything, I’m usually not far.”

“Ah, same,” said Roux. “I’m sure I’ll be fetching tea around the office until I get settled, yeah?”

“Oh, I don’t work here,” said Ken. With his now free hand, he reached in the bag to show her a saran-wrapped carton of soup with a receipt taped to the top. “That’s real sweet of you, though.”

Ken was apparently in a hurry elsewhere, but this was something Charlie did seem willing to talk about as they continued the tour. “Ken delivers pretty much all our takeout. He also comes in for a statement every couple of months,” they said. “These days, he just hangs around the office between jobs. Turns out he gets a  _ lot _ of weird delivery requests. Last time he came in, someone had wanted a pizza thrown off of the top of a building. Ken says it just disappeared into thin air.”

“And you believe him?” Roux asked.

Charlie shrugged. “Not my department. Once he’s given his statement to the archivists, they get to decide how many questions we ask. For what it’s worth, I do. We get a lot of people in here with crap stories, but Ken’s not one of them. You’ll see.”

Charlie led her down from the second floor to the first, and from there to a tall desk next to a large, iron grate of a door. The woman behind the desk eyed Charlie suspiciously until she saw Roux with them.

“Roux, this is Rosie,” said Charlie, gesturing with their paper tube. “And that behind her is artefact storage. Every now and then, our department gets a weird object attached to a statement, and this is where they end up after we’ve finished poking and prodding them.”

“Unless this pumpkin checks one out and loses it,” said Rosie, fixing Charlie with a reproachful glare.

“I keep telling you, it ran off!” Charlie exclaimed. “I’ll find it eventually.”

“Oh, next to the other ones?” said Rosie. “The stuffed animal I can understand - though it was  _ very _ well secured when I gave it to you - but the scissors?”

“Are somewhere,” Charlie insisted, waving their papers dismissively.

“Scissors don’t have legs, Charlie.”

“The point is,” said Charlie, turning back to Roux, “Rosie’s got a thorough catalogue of all the objects that come through the institute.”

“That spyglass was from the 15th century, Charlie,” Rosie said more loudly. “And the pan? Remember the frying pan?”

“And you can check one out for research purposes if you come across a statement you think it’s relevant to,” Charlie continued, ignoring her.

“One,” Rosie echoed, now addressing Roux as well. “You can have one at a time. And don’t you _ ever _ let them talk you into checking one out for them.”

“...M’kay,” said Roux as Charlie started to wander off. “Nice meeting you, Rosie!”

They made their way back to the staircase, and eventually to the basement. Most of the floor seemed dedicated to shelves upon shelves of books and neat plastic binders. The walls were punctuated by a few closed doors that Roux assumed were offices. It was terribly quiet. Roux could hear the faint sound of a computer keyboard from somewhere, and a voice speaking in a low, steady cadence. These noises felt somehow like they were coming from the building itself. More like wood settling in bad weather than a sign of human life. She almost jumped when Charlie rapped on one of the closed office doors. The door opened to reveal a large, friendly-looking man.

“Ah, great,” he said, upon recognizing Charlie, “That’s all the addresses for the Brighton case?”

“Addresses, tenants, even a couple of phone numbers,” Charlie confirmed, handing him the rolled-up papers. The man looked less than pleased at the state the reports were in, but forced a smile as Charlie continued. “I was just showing Roux around- Roux, this is Martin, he’s one of the archivists down here.”

“Hi, Roux! I keep saying, I’m an  _ assistant  _ archivist,” Martin corrected them. “We’ve only got the one.”

Charlie grinned a bit too widely. “How is Jon, anyway?”

“He’s… Well, he’s Jon,” said Martin. He glanced down the hallway towards the distant voice with a tender expression that was about the last thing Roux expected to see in the basement of a building that she would later describe as “spooky beyond all reason.”

“Cool, cool,” said Charlie, “Well, those files totally have everything you asked me for, so I’ll see you around.”

They dragged Roux back upstairs in a hurry. “And that’s about all you need to see of the archives,” they said nervously. “They’re in charge of the statements, the records, all the important stuff. Don’t spend too much time down there. Messes with your head. And don’t bother asking them about a case, either, they’ll come to you. There’s usually some light follow-up whenever they process a statement. If it’s not something they want to take care of, we get to do it. Sasha’s the one to go to if you actually need anything from down there, or Tim, but Martin proooobably comes upstairs the most.”

“Who’s Jon?” Roux asked. She recognized the sound of someone dancing around a topic. It was becoming clear that that was something Charlie did a lot.

Charlie snorted. “Jon’s the archivist,” they said. They straightened their posture slightly and imitated what Roux could only assume was Jon’s accent. “The ‘Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute’. He’s not a bad sort, just… weird. Even for here.”

“You don’t like him,” Roux translated. Charlie laughed.

“That’s also not my department,” they said. “Like I said, he’s not a bad person. That’s about all I expect out of anybody.”

Back at the desks, Charlie settled into their chair as heavily as if they’d just run a mile instead of taking a very leisurely walk around an office building. “First floor’s the lobby and the cafe, third floor’s executive junk and finance. That’s about all there is to see around the Institute.”

Roux nodded, perching on top of her desk. “What about here, then? The archives are spooky, artefact storage is cagey- what’s the research team like?”

For perhaps the first time that day, Charlie didn’t look like they were scrambling for a cheap excuse. They wheeled their chair a little closer to Roux’s desk. “Most of the time, it’s fine,” they said. “Remember how I said we get a lot of crap stories at the Institute? Well, this is where they get dealt with. We look into a lot of dead ends, and a lot of made-up stuff. But sometimes… Sometimes, something really, really dangerous comes in, and we have to deal with that, too. Someone has to put a hand on the burner to see if it’s hot.”

“So why do it?” asked Roux. Charlie was quiet for a moment. Roux wondered if it was too personal a question.

“I like the mystery of it,” they said, with a faint smile. “It’s like looking at a painting under a magnifying glass, only you can’t step back to see the whole thing.” They leaned back in their chair and nodded expectantly. “How about you, why are you here?”

Roux grinned. “I heard you get monsters.”


End file.
